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Best Poems Written by Gail Foster

Below are the all-time best Gail Foster poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Here, Again: the Autumn Equinox

Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016  
I wish you well...

I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast
As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave
And all the sins of summer long confessed

I come, again…
In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn
To brush the summer dust from weary grass
Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon
Before the frost freeze water into glass 
 
I bring, to you…
Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge
Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk
Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge
And mist, and myth, down every path you walk

I’m here, again…
The promise of the harvest to fulfil
The energy of autumn, streaming through
The swirling springs that spiral round the hill
To drench the land in red and russet hue

I come, again…
Between the longest day and shortest night
To fill the blood and marrow of your bones
With all the orange glory of the light
Before the dark descend upon the stones

I bring, to you…
A cornucopia of ripened fruit
Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright
To nourish soul and body, to transmute
Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight

For I am She…
Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree
Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare
So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be
And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…

@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016

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The Green Beneath the Snow

a rhyme for the spring equinox...

the hills are growing green beneath the snow 
white horses, shake the winter from your manes
the spring has come, the wild wind told me so

cold ice be gone, and warm sweet water flow
come, crocuses, and flower on the plains
the hills are growing green beneath the snow

grey gulls fly high, and clouds of blossom blow
come, laughing crows, and dance within the rains
the spring has come, the wild wind told me so

soon summer, and so many seeds to sow
come, sun, spill down the furrows of the lanes
the hills are growing green beneath the snow

bright gorse ablaze, and alder tops aglow
come blood, and flood the burrows of the veins
the spring has come, the wild wind told me so

dark night be gone, long days of light to go
come love, with all your mysteries and pains
the hills are growing green beneath the snow
and spring has come, the wild wind told me so

© Gail Foster 17th March 2018

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The Return of the Gay Knight

For my satire group, and for Will; a fairy tale

To a fanfare of horns
The young knight returned
With a tale of slain dragons to tell
The princesses blushed
And the old queen flushed
And the gay knights were happy as well

He had cast down his cross
From the height of his hoss
And left the thing there where it fell
For the great and the good
Were in need of the wood
To stoke up the fires of hell

He’d only been back for a moment before
He was begging a poke with a pardon
And a giggle, and “Push!”
From a quivering bush
Could be heard from the end of the garden

No need for a graven memorial stone
Or the ring of a funeral bell
The young knight was back
And well up for the crack
And all in the kingdom was well

© Gail Foster 2016

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Waiting For You, the Return of the Light

Written for the Winter Solstice sunrise at Avebury, Wiltshire, England

I have waited for you
Where no shadow seeps
Deep in the earth
Where the slow damp creeps
Under the stones
Where the sunlight sleeps
I have waited for you

I have listened for you
In the eaglet’s cry
In the echoes of rooks
In the empty sky
In a new born’s breath
And a dead man’s sigh 
I have listened for you

I have looked for you
Where the elders grow
Followed your steps
Through the virgin snow
Through groves of yew
And mistletoe
Looking for you

I have watched for you
By the door and the gate
Risen up early
And lain down late
Doubted your love
And cursed my fate
Watching for you

You said you would come
You said that you will
Appear as the dawn
On the curve of the hill
I have waited for you
Through the dark, and the still 
You said you would come

I lit you a fire
I kindled a flame
In the fear of the darkness
I called out your name
I thought I was dying
And then you came
You said you would come

And here you are
The promise of light
Sweetening silence
And softening night
And all shall be well
And be blesséd delight
You said you would come

© Gail Foster 21st December 2016

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The Song of the Wren

The wren is singing, high up in the tree
Come, lay your crown beside me on the ground
Come lie with me, my love, come lie with me

For every bloom on earth there is a bee
For every queen a green king to be crowned
The wren is singing high up in the tree

I wore a gown of bright embroidery
I wear my hair with heather flowers wound
Come lie with me, my love, come lie with me

I’m wanton, wild, alive with energy
I want you brought to me in oak leaves bound
The wren is singing high up in the tree

Oh aye, what then, why then I set you free
Oh my, and we get dirty and profound
Come lie with me, my love, come lie with me

You are my king.  I shut my eyes and see
Your silhouette, with sunlight all around
I hear the wren sing, high up in the tree
Come lie with me, my love, come lie with me

© Gail Foster 21st June 2018

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The Solstice Door

The light is coming and I wish you well...

Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
 ‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest 
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…

by Gail

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Blistered

This is my first Petrarchan sonnet...

Grey days of loss and loneliness are here
Sad nights as long as shadows in the deep
No joy, no hope, no gentleness, no sleep
No ray of light predicted to appear
Just disappointment, emptiness and fear
And sacred dreams discarded in a heap
By some abyss of faith too wide to leap
In ruins lies the love we held so dear

Wise folk will say there will be love again
That suns come up, and suns go down, and yet
All I perceive is darkness, drear and grim
All I can feel is searing hurt and pain
My heart, my fingers, too burnt to forget
All blistered, from the flame I hold for him

by Gail

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The Blossom On the Bough

Two sonnets for May, and my muse

The fires are lit, my lover, and the hills
are flickering with little points of light
The sun is set, and deep within the rills
the seeds of stars are littering the night 
The smoke is rising, lover, rising high
in winding spires of ribbons in the air
and in the rivers where the willows cry
and on the leys the ancient druids dare 
to walk, the chalk is glowing. I know you
will never leap the Beltane fires with me
or rise on one May morning in the dew
beside me, spellbound by my poetry  
Or so it seems. But oh, my lover, how  
the blossom burns, so brightly on the bough

The maypole’s up, my lover, on the green
its willow ribbons flutter in the breeze
I would you be my king, and I your queen
for one night only, here beneath the trees 
The hawthorn froths, my lover, in the hedge
the buds are bursting, birds are nesting high
yet still you fly, my hawk, above the edge
of some cold mountain way up in the sky
Come down, or are you wary that a flame
might fall within your feathers, or a spark 
ignite your heart, or god forbid, you came
to want to stay beside me in the dark
It’s so, it seems. But see, my lover, now
the blossom burning brighter on the bough

© Gail Foster 1st May 2018

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Crying For Light, For All Hallows and Samhain

Be still, can you hear the drum, the drum
Hear it beat like a heart in the heavy night
Hold on to your soul, for the dead are come
To look to the living for light

Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown

Out of the mist, they come, they come
Through the slip of a stitch in the hazy veil
With their feet all bare, and their faces pale
The dead come, crying for light 

Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone

Out of the past they come, they come
From the shadowy halls of history
From the battlefield, and the hungry sea
The dead come, crying for light

Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown

Out of the earth they come, they come
From the cold of the grave at midnight’s bell
From the harrowing heat of the fires of hell
The dead come, crying for light

Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone

Out of the dark they come, they come
With their winding sheets and their cobweb hair
With their violent curses and innocent prayer
The dead come, crying for light

Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown

Out of their minds they come, they come
Who are lost in the maze of space and time
Who are seeking the grace of a love sublime
The dead come, crying for light

Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone

Be not a-feared when they come, they come
Be as still as you can, and touch them not
Show them the way to the light forgot
Love them, and let them be

Be gone

In to the light they go, they go
To the glow at the end of the tunnel’s gloom
To the source of the scent of the rose’s bloom
In to the light they go

© Gail Foster 30th October 2016

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Mischievous Spring

A mischievous season called Spring
Liked to tickle the tree tops an’ ting
And teach songs to the birds
Full of old fashioned words
Oh the rude songs Spring taught them to sing!

Spring liked to laugh, and to run
On the hill tops and wind up the sun
With a glint in her eye
And the hint of a thigh
And her hair down and buttons undone

Sometimes she’d knock off a joke
How the squirrels would squeak as she spoke
And oh how the tits
Loved the sniggery bits
Of the ones for the feistier folk!

Spring liked the tease and the chase
Oh the flirtatious look on her face!
Catch me!  She’d say
Always getting away
Well, not always.  A time, and a place

A word, Winter said, in your ear
You’re crossing a line here, I fear
Enough of the bants
And the flashing of pants
It’s most unbecoming, my dear

Winter, said Spring, you’re as old
And as wet and as grey and as cold
As a sheep in the mud
While I’ve fire in my blood
I shall not do a thing that I’m told!

And off she went, flicking the Vs
I am Spring, and I’ll do what I please!
Off to dance in the ring
With no knickers an’ ting
And to tickle the leaves in the trees

© Gail Foster 17th March 2018